


The Way Home

by Mithen



Category: Steam Powered Giraffe/Captain America crossover
Genre: Crossover, Friendship, Gen, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-10
Updated: 2012-07-10
Packaged: 2017-11-09 22:32:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/pseuds/Mithen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's new backup band in his USO tour is three robots.  Well, it's not the weirdest thing that's happened to him this year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way Home

Steve Rogers heard the sweet strains of "Apple Blossom Time" lift into the air and ran through his lines in his head one more time. Maybe this time the troops would be politely bored, rather than some of the...less polite reactions he'd received. Not that he could be anything other than a letdown after the Andrews Sisters, but...

A heavy hand fell on his shoulder. Steve looked down and realized it was silver. A skeletal, silver hand--he whirled, his heart hammering, to confront three slender figures dressed in old-fashioned black clothes.

"Captain Rogers, sir." All three doffed their hats in unison and bowed. "At your service, sir."

"What--what are you?"

Three metallic faces brightened. "We are the Steam Man Band," they said together.

"The singing musical automatons," added the copper-colored robot helpfully, with a slight stammer in its voice.

"I am the Spine," announced the silver robot with the air of delivering a well-known spiel. "I was constructed with a titanium alloy spine. And this is Rabbit," it said, gesturing at the copper robot, who dropped its jaw in a gaping grin and waved. "And the Jon." The final, brass-colored robot bowed so deeply its top hat fell off. It picked it up, flipped it expertly around in its hands, and replaced it on its head. "We are your new backup band, sir." They were indeed carrying instruments, Steve noticed with some amazement.

"Well." Steve supposed it wasn't the weirdest thing that had happened to him in the last year. "Do you...know my songs?"

If it was possible for a robot to look aggrieved, the Spine did so. "We are programmed to entertain," it said with just a hint of chiding in its deep voice.

"Apple Blossom Time" was wrapping up, and there was no time left to debate the topic. Steve squared his shoulders. "Then let's go, men."

The troops were already fidgeting as he took the stage. They'd probably heard about his hokey performance. He beamed out at them, mentally bracing himself for the catcalls, and behind him came the sound of the opening strains of "The Stars and Stripes Forever," as performed on guitars and some kind of bizarre keyboard. It was strange, but...they were pretty good, actually. Stifling a shrug, Steve launched into the song: _"Hurrah for the flag of the free! May it wave as our standard forever..."_

The G.I.s were quieter than usual. They all seemed to be watching the robots, not Steve, which was frankly something of a relief. Steve wrapped up the song and was about to go into his memorized routine when the robots suddenly burst back into "The Stars and Stripes Forever." Only this time Rabbit was singing, and it certainly wasn't Sousa's words.

 _"Be kind to your web-footed friends,"_ implored the robot in a surprisingly sweet and earnest voice as Steve's jaw and spirit dropped, _"For a duck may be somebody's moooooother. Be kind to your friends in the swamp..._ " Rabbit rotated his arms in a flourish as he continued, and the soldiers started chuckling, then laughing, and finally roaring as he warbled the song. Steve cringed, but then realized it wasn't mocking laughter. They were enjoying themselves!

Rabbit looked over at Steve with his eyebrows raised questioningly as the chorus ended, and Steve gave him an enthusiastic "keep going" sign. _"Be kind to the lice in your shorts,_ " Rabbit belted out as the Jon turned cartwheels and the Spine kept time on the bass, _"For a flea may be somebody's brother."_ Steve joined in, marching and brandishing his shield with jerky motions as the crowd convulsed in laughter. _"Be kind to the bugs in your food, for to squish them is really very rude..."_

After the show (and the standing ovation, and the three encores, and the autographs) Steve found himself back in his tent with the robots. "Guys, you were great," he said.

"I hope that we provided a suitable accompaniment," the Spine said.

"I would be honored to play with you as long as the USO needs me," Steve said, and meant every word of it. They beamed and bowed.

"I'm glad they laughed at my song, but I d-d-don't understand why," he heard Rabbit say wistfully as they left the tent. "What exactly is funny about a plea to be k-k-kind to ducks?"

**: : :**

They performed together for a month, and Steve became first used to, and then fond of, their odd and quirky ways. The troops loved the robots, and they even became fond of "Captain America." They worked well as a team, and if it hadn't been for the gnawing knowledge that he could be doing so much _more_ to help the Allies, Steve would almost have been happy.

Until the day when all hell broke loose, and he went off to save a friend and came back--somehow, implausibly--a hero.

**: : :**

**Three months later**

Soldiers snapped to attention and saluted as Steve strode by them on his way to the commander's tent. A new mission briefing: as always he was torn between worry for his men and joy that they might have a chance to strike another blow against Hitler.

When he entered the tent, however, he was shocked to find the three members of the Steam Man Band standing in front of Colonel Phillips' desk, totally naked.

Well, "naked" wasn't quite right, of course. They were simply not wearing clothing, revealing the elegant art deco gears and gleaming struts that made up their bodies. But the effect was a startling one, and Steve blinked. "Captain Rogers, sir!" chorused the robots, and Rabbit raised his hand in a small wave.

"Um, hi guys," said Steve, realizing suddenly that Rabbit's graceful copper fingers had been replaced by something that looked like a buzzsaw. All of the robots, in fact, had weapons grafted onto their hands: guns, knives, hammers, they bristled like an armory. Rabbit even had submachine guns mounted on his shoulders; they sagged as if under a great weight, although Steve had once seen Rabbit lift a jeep without strain.

"It's a pleasure to see you again," said the Spine.

Colonel Phillips stood up, bracing his hands on the desk, his back ramrod-straight. "Rogers, I'm sending you and your squad behind enemy lines to clean out a key Nazi bolt hole. This is an essential operation, and you are to achieve it by any means necessary." He gestured at the three robots. "It has come to my attention that these machines have been programmed with combat skills; they will be clearing the way in front of you, softening the objective."

The three robots looked at each other. "Sir," the Jon said at last, stepping forward and making a motion as if to tip his now-missing hat, "With all due respect, sir, our creator, Colonel Peter A. Walter, promised us that we would be allowed to serve in a strictly non-combat capacity."

The other two robots nodded in perfect unison. "P-p-pappy promised," Rabbit said.

Phillips picked up a telegram from the desk and opened it, then tossed the paper down in front of them. "I've just been informed that Colonel Walter is deceased." All three robots went very still; Rabbit's jaw dropped open in a way that could have been comical in other contexts, but Steve felt no desire to laugh at all. "And that under the War Powers Act, the three machines collectively known as the Steam Man Band are now the property of the United States Army. Further, I have been informed--" He turned to Steve, "--Look Rogers," he said, dropping the official tone, "HQ insists we field test these things."

The Spine opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before saying "The Colonel's son will never allow this."

Phillips put his hands squarely on the table and leaned forward. "Maybe. But I'm not standing here arguing with a damn machine." He pointed at Steve. "Captain, you have your orders, and I have mine. Dismissed."

**: : :**

Steve's strike force complained at first about the robots, saying they "creeped them out" as they made their stealthy way across occupied France. The robots, for their part, made no effort to win over the other soldiers; they kept to themselves, spending hours sitting motionless and unspeaking as equipment, their eyes dimmed to a flicker. Yet after they proved themselves invaluable (carrying men safely across a minefield two at a time with their legs telescoped to ten feet long; heating food with a quick burst of hot breath when they didn't dare to light a fire) the men began to warm up to them.

They hadn't encountered enemy forces yet: seeing his mechanical friends as silent as if all the music had been drained from them, Steve was glad of it.

"All right, men," Steve said in a dim morning's light, "This is it." He pointed to a hill in the near distance. "When we reach the bunker, we'll all go in together and--"

"--Ain't the robots supposed to go in first?" interrupted Dugan. "They're supposed to get rid of the main opposition before we head in, right?"

Steve looked at the robots, standing stiff and motionless, their eyes fixed on the middle distance, far away. Their metal bodies gleamed in the pale sunlight, elegant and deadly. "Well..."

His words were cut off by a dull buzzing hum, growing louder: the sound of an aircraft in peril. "It's one of ours," said Morita, binoculars to his eyes--superfluously, since everyone in the squad knew what a B24 Liberator sounded like. "They're in trouble...going down."

There was a dull _thump_ and a column of smoke started to rise a few miles to the west, far from the hill they were required to take. Steve grimaced, but knew his commands from Phillips had to take precedence.

"Sir." Steve looked over to see the Spine leaning forward, his brilliant green eyes alight. "We could go save any survivors. We could cut them out of the wreckage quickly--" Rabbit spun his buzz saw in emphasis, "--Get them back to Allied territory. We could save their lives."

Steve looked at the smoke rising, back at the eager robots. "You don't want to kill anyone."

"We are programmed to entertain," intoned the Spine as if it answered the question, and Steve supposed it did.

"All right," he said, cutting off the objections of his men. "They never asked for this. They never even had a chance to be conscientious objectors." He turned back to the robots. "Go save who you can and get them back home, okay? That's an order."

Three crisp military salutes in perfect unison (weapons hitting metal foreheads in a chorus of clinks), and the robots wheeled together to lope off across the field toward the west.

Steve wasn't sure, but he thought he heard them singing as they went.

**: : :**

Phillips' face was congested and red with anger. "You deviated from plan! You put lives at risk!"

"I revised the plan when the situation changed, adapting to circumstances," Steve countered. "The mission was a success, and the robots saved seven soldiers from capture." The three robots were standing before Phillips' desk, clad once more in their Victorian-era clothing, their faces carefully neutral.

Phillips' eyes narrowed. "And your assessment of these machines in the field?"

Steve cleared his throat, not looking at the robots. "I regret to say that the clockwork soldiers are insubordinate and inefficient in the extreme. They are not well-suited to combat situations. I strongly recommend that they remain in a strictly entertainment capacity."

Phillips grabbed a pen and scratched an angry signature onto some papers. "Thought this was a stupid plan anyway. Mechanical soldiers. Horse puckey. Give me good reliable human beings every time."

"Yes sir," said Steve.

Outside the tent, the Jon started doing backflips. "Thank you," said the Spine to Steve.

"You're good men," said Steve, sticking out his hand. The Spine's silver eyebrows went up. After a moment, he took the offered hand and shook it gravely.

"Oh, _hand_ shakes, what? I simply _must_ have a hug!" cried Rabbit, throwing his arms around Steve. "Take care, O Captain my Captain!"

The three of them went off across the field away from Steve, dancing and waving to everyone, Rabbit blowing kisses back at him.

That was the last time Steve saw them.

**: : :**

Snippets of sound--catchphrases, jingles, explosions--careened past Steve as Tony Stark idly played with the tv remote. Steve pulled another chinup (his three hundredth) and growled, "Can't you at least stay on one channel, Tony?"

" _Some_ of us have minds of such complexity that we need a variety of stimula to keep us entertained," Tony said airily, zapping past a raucous pop song, a solemn news report, and an ad for toilet cleaner in a matter of seconds.

" _Some_ of us don't have the attention span of a guppy," Steve retorted. Tony ignored him and kept flipping.

"Oh, that's interesting," he said after a while, the cacophony ceasing for a moment. "These robots look like they're about as antique as you. Check it out."

Steve looked over--and dropped from the chin-up bar with a _thump._ "We are Steam Powered Giraffe," announced the gleaming figures on the screen to their audience. "The singing musical automatons. And we are programmed to entertain you."

" _Bor_ ing." Tony lifted the remote, then yelped as Steve grabbed it from him.

"Don't," said Steve shortly, and Tony subsided at the look in his eyes.

"We wrote this next song many years ago for a friend of ours," the Spine was explaining as he started to strum his guitar. "We call it 'That'll Be the Way Home,'"

As the robots started to sing ( _"A man takes off from an airfield/ and he's a'soaring very far from home/ 'cause he flies a B-17 straight through the sky"_ ) Steve stared at the screen. Then he turned to Tony. "Can I borrow one of your personal jets?"

Tony shrugged. "Sure, I guess. Just don't scratch the paint. Where are you going?"

"I'm heading to San Diego," said Steve, feeling a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth--feeling, in fact, better than he had for a long time.

( _"He's homesick and he knows/ it'll be a long time till he's done..."_ )

"I've got some old friends to meet."

 _"If we all look towards what we miss most_  
and keep that drive in our heart  
Well, that'll be the way home."

\----

([Video](http://youtu.be/Yjr33kp0Iwo) of SPG performing "The Way Home," a very pretty song!)


End file.
